


The Hummingbird Effect

by codenamelr



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-14
Updated: 2015-09-13
Packaged: 2018-04-20 17:38:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,191
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4796330
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/codenamelr/pseuds/codenamelr
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An unexpected ally joins the quest to reclaim Erebor. While her motives for aiding the Company are unclear to some, there is no doubt of the healing effect she offers along the journey. For all fight battles on the field or within themselves, and sometimes in the struggle to save others, a heroine can end up saving herself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Hummingbird Effect

**A/N:** Hello and welcome to my first fanfiction. Yes, this is the ol’ maiden voyage. I hope you will enjoy the journey as much as I will delight in navigating you, dear reader, through it. Without further due, let us begin.

 

Chapter One – _Dust & Gold _

 

Phemie had not the vaguest notion of being lost until she encountered the crownless King Under the Mountain on the road to a burglar’s house. Thorin Oakenshield was unmistakable even as a bulky silhouette several feet from her along the dirt path and every bit the proud and important Dwarf he was said to be. Weighed down with his pack, weapons and weather-worn hood, Thorin still managed to stand tall (for a Dwarf) with shoulders back. She also had absolutely no doubt, even with his back to her, he wore a stern expression on his face at that very moment. Friend, foe, or no, Thorin was the starkest creature she was ever likely to encounter in this world or any other. Smirking, she picked up her pace to catch him up.

“Master Blacksmith!” she called out for good measure.

Thorin turned with no assumption the cry was addressing him exactly; although, when he made out the figure that belonged to the call, his already present frown deepened with recognition—as well as vexation at her choice of address. His jobs were scattered and varied among the world of Men. He appreciated very little that she would know him by the occupation he held when first they met.

“You are aware of my name,” he answered over his shoulder as he turned forward once more. “I would rather you used if you must.”

If she didn’t know any better, she would have suspected him of quickening his step to make it hard on her to fall into pace with him. Fortunately, the task wasn’t too burdensome if that were the case. Giving a sigh of content as she shot him a teasing grin, Phemie adjusted her own pack over her shoulders and commented casually, “So, you do remember me. I would think it to be a chore indeed to keep track of all the lesser mortals you berate whenever the occasion arises. Then again, I did feel we had a special connection between us. I’m so flattered you feel the same.”

She heard a deep growl in the darkening nightfall and knew it was not danger nor did she feel fear of any unseen beast that may have been lurking beyond the path. Unless she developed a sudden phobia of disgruntled Dwarf lords any time soon, that is.

This suspicion was confirmed when a similarly gravelly tone laced Thorin’s low reply. “Why are you here? I would think Humans had no business in hobbit country. Or, are you planning on taking your petty annoyances on tour, plaguing the whole of Middle Earth with your witless banter?”

“Not at all. Though, I do suppose it’s never too early to plan for retirement. Actually, I have caught wind of adventure. A little birdie has told me a quest is afoot.”

Thorin turned sharply to her at this. His hand shot to the hilt of his blade, ready to draw it if need be. “How came you by this information? I will tolerate no opposition or word spreading of these plans. Tell me!” he hissed.

They had come to a stop at this point, and Phemie had raised her palms slowly to show she did not intend to take any action against him. “Gandalf,” she said simply.

There was a lengthy stillness to the air when no sound disturbed the tense atmosphere engulfing the scene save for Thorin’s rough breathing through gritted teeth. He cursed in Khuzdul then allowed his grip to fall away from his weapon. “Meddlesome wizard.”

She let out a breath of relief and began to walk with him once more. “He did mention you needed all the help you could get.” Thorin huffed but said no word against the accusation.

“Besides,” she continued as though he had not meant to dispute the idea. “I owe you.” Phemie gave a tap to the sword at her hip as indication.

His thick brow tensed as he gave a firm shake of his head. “You made payment for the work I did on that ridiculous sword. While I agree, it was a wonder I was able to salvage it as much as I did, the fee was satisfactory. The deal is done.”

“My reasons are my own and hold no threat to you, my Lord Dwarf. The cause happens to mean much to me, and I will not be satisfied until I feel I have returned the favor you have given me.”

The grumpy Dwarf made another sound of disapproval but left the issue. “You mean to join us.” Ordinarily, this phrase would have been a question, or perhaps an invitation, at least, if it were anyone else speaking of it. But, he knew there was no budging the stubborn female as she had already appeared to be decided.

“I would not miss this quest for the world, dear friend,” she assured and meant it well.

“Meddlesome woman,” he grumbled.

* * *

 

Phemie understood hobbits to be a pleasant sort of folk, so when the round door of a hobbit hole opened to the drawn expression of a dumbstruck little man, she began to wonder if the journey had been harder than she originally thought causing her to seem the living embodiment of Death. Bilbo Baggins’ face was so pale, she feared he’d drop dead on the spot. Standing behind Thorin, she peered down into the doorway as she was too tall to stand straight and be able to see inside.

She opened her mouth to offer him any kind of aid, but Thorin was pushing into the entrance without so much as introduction or even notice at all to the dazed hobbit. Crinkling her eyebrows at his rudeness, she shook her head. Whether the hobbit meant to allow her inside or simply stumbled back in shock, Phemie took it as a gesture of welcome and entered following behind Thorin, carefully.

Something told her Bilbo had seen few Humans in his time. Especially any that would come to call in the middle of the night.

As she ducked into the foyer and stood beside the little man with lovely, tawny curls, she gave him a kind smile. “Phemie Brownsword. A pleasure to meet you.”

“Bilbo Baggins,” he replied like a good host would as if by default. “Delightful, indeed.”

“Well, I cannot say we were expecting you, but I daresay you are not likely to be turned away in this hour of need, Mistress Brownsword,” Gandalf supplied from the front archway where he currently stood crouched, wearing a polite grin which held a hint of mischief to it. However, it was difficult to prove when it disappeared altogether as he looked over to Thorin with a tilt of his head in greeting.

Phemie concluded this sudden change was not Gandalf’s usual changeful nature but due to the distinct possibility that Thorin was currently glaring at him. She also ventured a good guess as to why and what it was he was thinking as he did.

“Nice to see you again, Gandalf,” she glossed over the moment while removing her hood and hanging it on a vacant peg followed by taking the belt from her waist which her notable blade hung from. She placed it on the floor close to the wall.

“ _Gandalf_ ,” Thorin intoned. “I thought you said this place was easy to find. I lost my way, twice.”

Phemie stifled a snort as best she could before making her way further inside and into the dining room where the rest of the party waited. It seemed she and Thorin were the last to arrive.

Spotting a few familiar faces while others she had yet to officially meet, she took a place at the dining table between Balin and Bofur. She greeted one with a polite nod and warm smile while the other was given a firm pat on the shoulder and crude joke for his trouble.

“Lovely to see you, Balin.”

“And you, Miss Brownsword. I trust you are still in possession of your odd blade piece.”

“Oh, yes. I couldn’t possibly be parted from it.”

“Nor would I be,” Bofur added. “Ah, but there is the question of the bits to go along with your piece. I’d wager those have long since gone pear-shaped.”

Laughter erupted and so the evening progressed until business interrupted once Thorin sat down to the table.

* * *

 

“What beast?”

Bilbo’s quiet yet reluctantly interested voice had the attention of the company turn to where he stood at the edge of the room.

Bofur took the tip of his smoking pipe from his lips to respond. “Well, that would be a reference to Smaug the Terrible, chiefest and greatest calamity of our age. Airborne fire-breather, teeth like razors, claws like meat-hooks, extremely fond of precious metals—”

“I think we all know what a dragon is, thank you,” Phemie said with a droll inflection.

Ori, one of the youngest in the group, jumped up then and bragged proudly. “I’m not afraid! I’m up for it. I’ll give him a taste of Dwarvish iron right up his jacksie!”

Phemie shook her head as he showed the naivety of his youth. Meanwhile, the room exploded with angry shouts. “Sit down!” Dori ordered as Ori was pulled back into his seat.

“We may be few in number, but we’re fighters, all of us, to the last Dwarf!” Fili declared.

His brother chimed in next. “And you forget, we have a wizard in our company. Gandalf will have killed hundreds of dragons in his time!”

All looked to the grey wizard expectantly. However, they found him stammering at the claim.

Dori prompted him. “How many then?”

Gandalf coughed.

_Amazing_ , Phemie marveled quietly to herself while the room was abuzz in chaotic argument. It didn’t matter if the cause was joyous or strained, Dwarves knew how to cause a ruckus. Amazing still was how quickly Phemie joined in the uproar even though she considered herself a reasonable person. Before long, she was hollering along with the rest, knowing full well she could hear no point of debate as all of hers were likely falling on deaf ears.

The noise only died down with the demand of their previously silent leader who rose from his seat, struck the surface of the table, and declared silence in the Dwarf’s native tongue.

The King Under the Mountain had risen. No longer did Thorin Oakenshield reside in this tiny room surrounded by hopeless company. He spoke with confidence as though he were delivering a prophesy long since foretold. They would take back their home, his birthright. This was his battle speech meant to rally warriors in a moment of sure defeat, yet they would rise with all the glory of their forefathers. His final cry, “ _Du Bekâr! Du Bekâr!_ ” was met with a thunderous cheer.

The rational counsel of Balin broke this reverie with a logical issue in this plan. “You forget the front gate is sealed. There is no way into the mountain.”

Gandalf, quite recovered from his earlier word indigestion, replied, “That, my dear Balin, is not entirely true.”

Though no fireworks went off nor did smoke sizzle from his fingers, but a key appeared in Gandalf’s fingers like magic, for its existence and presence in the room was an absolute surprise. Thorin was particularly enthralled by the wizard’s cunning presentation.

“How came you by this?” he breathed as if his voice alone would be enough to cause the key to vanish as quickly and easily as Gandalf had produced it.

“It was given to me by your father, by Thrain, for safekeeping. It is yours now.” He handed over the key to Thorin. He accepted it tenderly.

With the problem of a _way_ into the mountain taken care of, the only issue that remained was finding the _door_ itself. This was where a burglar came in. Phemie’s gaze slowly slid over to the hobbit hovering in the doorway.

* * *

 

She had to admit, Bilbo could have used with a brief break from his waking nightmare even if she did feel bad when he passed out after Bofur’s relentless teasing about incineration.

Phemie waited in the other room with most of everybody else while Bilbo sat with Gandalf to recover. The Dwarves had taken it upon themselves to snoop into the innermost living habits of a hobbit. Though, giving credit where it was due, they did return each item they touched back to the place it belonged once interest was lost on any particular item. Relatively unscathed, too, depending on who was doing the inspecting.

She caught Fili and Kili disposing of one or two things they weren’t too gentle with. Kili sneaked her a wink while putting his finger to his lips, and Fili shot her a swift smirk as he did the dirty work of getting rid of the evidence.

Lifting two fingers to point at her own eyes then back at the two tricksters, she silently let them know what she thought of their antics. They snickered and moved on to the next shelf of knick-knacks. Phemie gave her head a slight shake before she was stilled by the burning of another pair of eyes staring holes into her back.

Dwalin stood near Thorin which didn’t surprise her in the slightest. What did unsettle her, though, was his keen and deliberate focus on her. In fact, it had been evident ever since she’d take a seat at the table earlier in the evening. Phemie met his steady gaze, raising her chin a bit in acknowledgement. And perhaps, a little challenge as well.

He didn’t so much as twitch, the warrior bastard. She arched a brow incredulously then said, “It is rude to stare, you know. I imagine it’s probably been a while since you’ve seen any form of female, but we still generally grow uncomfortable under scrutiny.”

Finally, he reacted with a grunt.

“There’s a fine line between admiration and gawking,” she continued.

His face scrunched up in disgust.  _Disgust? So, it’s going to be that way, is it?_ she thought in disbelief. A breath of humorless laughter escaped her, mouth gaping, but he spoke up before she could comment further.

“The fact is, missy, I have a hard time finding any reason you should be here.”

Her jaw snapped shut and her face grew serious with a hard look of forced indifference. Shrugging off his sharp frankness, Phemie glanced around the group before turning her eyes back to him. “Does a friend need a reason to help out another friend?”

“A friend you may _appear_ to be, but who is to say we can trust you, a Human? This is the business of Dwarves. What is in it for you? Looking to line your purse, are you?”

Her eyes slanted quickly to Thorin who stood silent, yet she could tell he was paying attention to the conversation even with his eyes averted from its activity. Phemie’s jawline grew taunt when she returned her focus to Dwalin. B

alin, Bofur, and several others had begun to take notice, too. Fili and Kili as well as Bifur, Ori, and Bombur had since temporarily disappeared out of sight.

“What did he say?” Oin shouted from his seat on the other side of the sitting room.

“He’s suggesting I intend to risk my life for dragon-coveted treasure in order to buy myself a lovely new pair of glass and ruby slippers,” Phemie informed with contempt as she glared directly back at Dwalin.

“Now, now, lass,” Balin attempted to soothe the progressing situation.

“A gross exaggeration,” her accuser shot back.

“I disagree. I don’t believe I’m far off the mark, at all. The gears in that over-sized, closed-minded skull of yours have been working all night at my intentions, have they not? Surely you’ve worked up all manner of motivations for me. Go on, tell everyone why I can’t be trusted to trudge along with a band of stubborn, distrusting Dwarves! To what end? Oh, only an occupied mountain at the other side of the world through Elf, Orc, and Human country. Occupied by what, you may ask? Certainly nothing too daunting. Yes, a mere giant lizard with the ability to blaze my bones into dust as easily as dry grass,” she rambled dryly.

“Careful, lads. I think she might have gone a bit mad,” Bofur cautioned warily.

“Is it contagious?” Dori wondered in panicked awe, taking him quite seriously.

“Better not take any chances,” Bofur replied, inching back a few steps. Dori was swift to follow.

Dwalin rolled his eyes.

“What is in it for you then?” Gloin demanded from his corner. “You said it yourself. ‘Tis a long journey through and around many lands infested with villains and foe. A dragon awaits in the final thick of it. So, why come along?”

“She owes a debt to me,” Thorin spoke.

The room once again fell into silence. For a long while, even Phemie stared dumbly back at him. She didn’t believe he truly accepted that excuse, but he must be somewhat curious to stick up for her. She offered a small smile in his direction.

“There you have it,” Balin ended it. He approached Phemie to put a comforting hand on her arm. “No one would ever expect you of foul intentions, of course. Never have you done a slight or great deal of harm against a Dwarf among us or otherwise.”

“Aye, I barely bruised at all from those punches you gave me,” Bofur added with a laugh.

The tension slowly ebbed from the room, but Dwalin silently swore with a final look to keep an eye on her. She wouldn’t expect anything less from Thorin’s protector.

_Later_ , she quietly promised him with a final look of her own. Then the company’s attention was drawn by Gandalf who had returned with a much calmer hobbit. Bilbo dug out a sack of pipe-weed for his guests as a way to put the silly incident of his fainting behind them.

The missing Dwarves returned to take a seat—Bombur had somehow found some fruit leftover in the ravaged stores of Bilbo’s food pantry.

Phemie took a seat leaning back against the forgiving arch near the hallway. It was difficult to find a chair to fit in without it already being taken. Nabbing a cushion before another could claim it, she used the pillow to make sitting on the floor a lot easier on her back. Though, she almost had to fight Bifur for it. Sticking her tongue out at his ramblings in Khuzdul, she sat back and listened as Thorin began crooning a song of his people.

Soon the night was filled with the deep melody of the Dwarves joining in, and Phemie slipped into an anxious sleep of fire and shadows.

 

**A/N:** Huge thanks to Febs for helping me get the beginning to where it needed to be! I owe you one. 


End file.
